Love
by scribbler567
Summary: Hanschen comes to a realization he isn't ready for. Hanschen/Ernst implied


Pulling his knees to his chest, the young man stared into the waters that lie still before him. The moon was full that night. It shone brightly on the lake, and the blonde couldn't keep his eyes off of the natural beauty before him. The grass beneath him was damp, but he didn't mind much. He was too concentrated on the emotions racing inside of him, on the knot in his stomach and the lump in his throat. There was nobody around, nobody to witness him as he slowly came undone.

When he closed his eyes, even for a moment, he saw only one thing. He saw Ernst. Ernst: the weak and defenseless boy he had seduced so he could get some sort of physical attention. The boy had been an easy target: vulnerable and naive. That was why Hanschen had picked him. He could have picked any other boy, there was nothing else enticing to him about Ernst. He wasn't very handsome. He wasn't in the best physical shape. In fact, he was fairly scrawny with little muscle or tone to him. Yet, when he closed his eyes and saw Ernst, Hanschen saw much more than the weak boy he had sought after months before.

Opening his eyes, wanting desperately for the image to go away, Hanschen threw himself to the edge of the lake and splashed the cold water onto his face. He hadn't even realized that he was sweating. The cool rush of water felt amazing against his hot face. He scrubbed his eyes, almost clawing at them, so that he wouldn't have to continue to picture Ernst. He needed the image to go away. He had to purify himself once more.

Realizing that the water was doing nothing to alleviate the reel of images going through his mind, Hanschen reached for his satchel, pulling out the postcard of the nude model he had treasured for so long. Staring at her full breasts and curvy body, Hanschen tried to pick out all of the things he had once adored about her. As water dripped from his hair to the picture, he grew irritated, tossing it into the water.

The postcard slowly sank, and Hanschen felt the tears beginning to burn in his eyes. As the picture sank into the silent waters, tears began to stream down his face. Sobs slowly escaped him, and the young blonde pulled his knees back to his chest, burying his face in them.

Closing his eyes again, Hanschen let his mind take over:

He saw himself. Then he saw Ernst. They were together, but they weren't physically intimate. Ernst was in his arms, his head against Hanschen's bare chest. Their hands and legs were intertwined, and they simply sat like that. They were content. They were content with just each other's company. It was all they needed. Ernst turned his head and looked up at Hanschen with his big, brown eyes, smiling. And Hanschen smiled back…

Unable to bear anymore, Hanschen opened his eyes, lifting his head and looking at the sky. He was sobbing uncontrollably, feeling as if he were going to vomit.

It was then that Hanschen was able to fully comprehend what had happened. He understood the mistake he had made, the sin he had committed, the thing he had told himself he would never do.

He was in love.

Somewhere in the passing months, sex hadn't been enough. Simple sex had suddenly stopped being satisfying. Hanschen was suddenly finding that he wanted Ernst. He didn't want the physical intimacy alone. He wanted the boy he had seduced, and he wanted him to stay. He was no longer a sex object. He was a partner. He was someone Hanschen wanted to spend his life with.

Hanschen wiped his eyes, trying desperately to laugh at himself for being such an idiot. Ernst was a stupid boy. He was weak and useless. He was supposed to be just an object, just a body to satisfy his needs with. When the hell had Hanschen let him become more?

Hanschen didn't do emotions. He was a proud and arrogant man. He didn't waste time over emotions, not in the society they lived in. Love always ended in heartbreak. There was no use in it.

In an attempt to steady himself, Hanschen stood from his spot on the grass, picking up his satchel with a trembling hand. He was still crying, though the sobs had subsided as he made desperate attempts to breathe deeply. In what was almost a run, he made his way to the church that was just down the road.

As tears streamed down his face, tears of pure terror, Hanschen pushed open the doors, finding that the church was empty. He sunk down onto a pew in the last row, his knees hitting the wood floor so hard that he knew it would leave a bruise in the morning. "God, what did I do to deserve this?" he whispered, practically hissing the words out.

When no answer came, Hanschen grabbed a fistful of hair, trying desperately to understand where he had went wrong. He looked back up at the altar, the eyes of Jesus seeming to be staring mockingly at him. "What did I do? Where did I go wrong?" he asked, now shouting. "He's a man. He's a fucking man! I can't be with him, don't you know that? Don't you see that I didn't want this?"

Hanschen knew he was shouting to the air. He had never bought into the religion that was constantly shoved down his throat. Yet, he was still hoping that he could find an answer there. Everyone else seemed to .

"Please help me…" His voice trailed off, as he fell to his knees. "I can't be in love."


End file.
